Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1887-03-16
q Serial Stnry.
RETRIBUTI0N
BY "THE DUCHESS"
CHAPTER vi.

BY "THE DUCHESS"
f CHAPTER vi.
Grant, Boyle, emerging from behind
an evergreen, comes leisurely forward, an
inscrutable smile upon his firm lips.
''Our dance, Millicent," he says, in the
slow drawling tone to which she is so &C
customed, and which she has begun to
hate 80 heartily.
ssI dare say,' she says, coolly.
'sWill you dance it, or pass the time in
the gardensethey are .astonishingly
pretty" ,ag ,.sr...f
"That depends upon whom I view the
gardens with" says she, glancing at him
insolenty from under half closed lids.
"With me, of course"
"Ah!then I shall dance it."
GAS you will, my pretty cousin. "
There is q touch Of yindictiveness in the
smile he bends upon her. Perhaps,
even, you would prefer to neither dance
nor 60 into the gardens with me, but
spend the half hour-another half hour
here with Mr.. Massareene?"
II for moment he had supposed he
could confuse or disconcert her, he finds
out his mistake at once.
"Yes, I should prefer that" she says.
Massareene at this makes step toward
her, but Grant, Boyle waves him back
with curious laugh.
..No, no, my friend," he says genially.
"You can not have it all your own way.
Iwould not give up this dance with my
cousin" He pauses, and then laughs
aloud. "Do you know, Milly, 1 was very
near saying, with my wife, but that
would have been unlucky, chr Counting
before the happy time, eh? But really,
you know"-turning again to Massa-
reene-"I would not miss this dance with
Miss Grey for great deal"
"It is astonishing how much you can
say in little time" says his fiancee with
an i'll disguised sneer, rising with deliber'
ate want of haste from her low seat.
''Well, if this thing has got to be danced
let us 60 and do it.' She lays her hand
upon her cousins arm, and moves away
a step or two with him. Then she
glances back over her shoulder at Mas
sareene, who is looking q little white, and
comes to a standstill. "The next is
ours" she says in q very sweet voice;
tcome for me as soon as you can.
shall be glad to see you again" This is
as much as to say she will be oyerjoyed
when her dance with the man who is her
af1anced husband has drawn to close.
Grant Boyle, with smothered impreca-
ton, moves on again, and she perforce ac-
companies him-but not to the ball room.
s'I'm not going to dance this, nor am
going into the gardens" she says, with
decision. ~ am going to sit in the
smaller hall, and criticise the people
while they come and 60. That will help
to pass away the time"
'sUntil you can with politeness get rid
ofme."
"Don't be rude, my dear Grant, To
put an unpleasant truth in glaring color
is always q mistake"
~ will be mistaken twice, then, for
your benefit, and to prove myself by no
means fool in your eyes. You will sit
here and criticise your neighbors until it
Is time for you to return once more to the
arms-I beg pardon-the society Of Ger
aid Massareene."
"You have an excellent wit, says she,
with an untroubled smile.
.''sYou cannot, however, deny the truth
that lies in it.''
'Why should I? You are such an ex-
tremely clever young man that one must
believe you can see through the proverb-
ial stone wall"
Mr.. Boyle bestows glance that is not
altogether one of affection upon his fu-
ture wife.
"Then you don't deny it?' he says.
sCertainly not. I should welcome the
advent of any one who would relieve me
Il mean you-of the burden Of your
that is my-presence.
She laughs as she gives voice to this
little inpertinence-made ell the more
pointed by tho affectation of modesty
that runs through it. Grant, frowns
openly. If the day should ever come in
which he might claim this willful lady as
his own-if-(it seems very improbable
at this moment specially SOY he will GER
tainly teach her such lesson in propricty
as she will not be likely to forget for the
remainder of her days.
"Don't trouble yourself to try to be po-
lite, even in ridicule," :" he says, in voice
that suggests good deal of hidden wrath
beneath the forced calmncss Of his de-
meanor. "But even you and Mr.. Massa-
reene cannot dance together oil night
without laying yourselves open to un-
kindly comment. An elIetc civilization
has so ordained it, thct the world has
grown to look on such vulgar exhibitions
of affection cs-indecent."
Miss Grey lets her fan drop to her side,
and brings her hands together with
sudden sharp movement.
"How dare your she says, in low
tone.
"Hah! At last I have touched you,
my pretty cousinl" cries he, gayly. IA
little of that revenge, so wisely called
sweet has fallen to my portion tonight.
Why, you look positively pale! CONS,
pull yourself together; call upon that in.
dominitable spirit in which you pride
yourself, and give mo back my blowl
What-still no words? no seethins sar-
casm, no pointed barb envi-oned? Pshaw!
gave you credit for more go than you
possess"
His manner is maddening. Miss
Grey, rising slowly to her feet, with
parted lips, through which the painting
breath comes hurriedly, surveys him
with glance that would have subdued
most men. But not Grant, Boyle.
He rises, too, and picking up her fan
with o nonchalant grace, hands it to her
with slight bow full of mockery.
"You look charming so," he says,
"with that naughty expression on your
handsome lips. Flattery is not only vul-
gar, know, but the crudest of mistakes
nowadays; but you will forgive me for
it, when you see how feeling has carried
me away. I am devoted admirer of ar
tistic effects. This, Of yours, is perfect.
I have always considered you pretty, my
cousin, but never really realized the fact
that you could be beautiful until now"
"You run it very fine," says Miss Grey,
in q voice so subdued to be almost a
whisper. "You are daring. 1t would
hardly suit you, perhaps, to be thrown
over by the heiress Of the season."
"The heiress of the season wo-.d not
so serve a devoted lover" replies he,
still with that light mocking laughter on
his sneering lips. "If she did-why-she
might cease to be the heiress of the sea-
son."
He had dealt his little blow in a soft
undertone, but it tells. 1t is all so true
Her uncle, Timothy Boyle, her aunt,
Mrs. Brand, the two whose wills make
her an heiress, could as easily unmake
her, were she to 60 contrary to their
wishes. And they have decreed that she
is to marry Grant, Boyle, the son of their
dearly loved dead brother, the first hus-
band of Lady Valworth. A whim on
their parts. A serious matter with the
girl now standing pale with passionate
nnrer-vith head down bent and q hpart